M. J. Luke
Stories (18/0)
Perry and the Shark
Let’s tell a story about a pear that will eat up 600 words. Once upon time there was pear named Perry from Perrington, who came from a pear tree. Perry loved the beach and went there every evening after work. The water at Fruit Beach was always clear, cool, and when Perry was underwater there was always fish. Perry loved the fish more than anything and this was the whole reason Perry would walk or waddle or however pears locomote to the beach. Perry had a lot of friends at the beach. Mrs. Apple, who was really a gourd, Mr. Zucchini, the eggplant twins, Carter the tree, Denise the banana, and more. Perry was happy at the beach.
By M. J. Luke2 years ago in Fiction
Lacus
Lacus Dear Douglas, I’m enthused by the sudden air this winter season has brought. It seems to have reinvigorated me and I’ve become second to my dog in ability to dance about with origin-less passion. I’m happy to say my desperation for adventure is soon to be quelled as I’ve heard from Dr. Thorn, she’s in need of someone. From what I understand about the job, Dr. Thorn has submitted a request to the Institute of Oceanography and Marine Species Ecology and they’ve granted her a fine donation that will allow her to set up station on a fifty-man crew vessel and as a result she needs a mythologist.
By M. J. Luke3 years ago in Fiction
Not Quite Time, Not Quite Space
The dust of Codd stirred in thickening waves as Emma and Auden raced towards their shuttle. Emma looked over her shoulder at the valley where Bovem once stood and then down at her hand where the Sword of Bovem waited to be used. Bovem was gone, but that thunderous voice of his still rumbled through the air and electrified the atmosphere. It almost calmed Emma and made her believe all was not lost.
By M. J. Luke3 years ago in Fiction
The School of Taco
The street lights on Nectare Road flickered once and then went black, taking with them the pot filled pavement. All was pure night outside and inside the twenty or so homes and as parents rushed to light candles and ignite flashlights, the sky above rumbled. There was no hurricane intended for the small Florida town of Amos, but as any Floridian would tell an outsider, ‘it didn’t take a direct hit to knock our power and empty water shelves across the state’. Although to be true, most of the water disappeared because of stubborn tourists, refusing to leave vacation too soon and willing to ride out the storm. Homeowners propped doors open to invite the breeze in, kids bugged their parents to visit friends down the road since ‘the storm wouldn’t be that bad’, and down the road a loner of sorts packed a few items in a bookbag destined to be used for her first year of college come fall.
By M. J. Luke3 years ago in Fiction
Not Quite Time, Not Quite Space
Codd’s landscape unfurled in shades of grey and hills of ash and lost valleys. Once a place of floral sweetness and golden sap musk, Codd reeked of stagnant lakes and rivers run dry. Crossing Codd became a war with dust for Emma and Auden as every step they took kicked up clouds refusing to settle and as Emma looked over her shoulder at the shuttle, she could make out their long path by dust alone. To Codd’s credit, there was still enough of her left to show progress in Emma and Auden’s travel as mounds that were once cities, and valleys that were once mountains became indicators of passing kilometers.
By M. J. Luke3 years ago in Fiction
The Sleeper Shark
The only dangerous rumor was the one no one was keeping an eye on and for a field where everybody knew everybody it was a rare thing for a rumor to exist with an immediate truth undecided. The rumor played out in conferences, multi-organizational projects, professional retreats, and just about anywhere involving two or more shark biologists, but still not one person could confirm or fully deny the rumor. As a result, there was suspicion and leading figures within the field warned younger associates that nothing good could come from such a mangled collection of supposed ‘interactions’.
By M. J. Luke3 years ago in Fiction
The Ganymede parvipinnis
Introduction For decades, gaining access to Jupiter’s largest moon, Ganymede, was impossible, but futuristically inevitable and in 2063 first human contact with Ganymede was made. Due to Ganymede’s cyclical shift, the moon, once thought lifeless, locked on a path closer to the sun and perfectly captured in the habitable zone that made it more susceptible to life and an easier target for human exploration. In the year 2070 a group of veterinarians, veterinary technicians, biologists, conversationists, ecologists, and zoologists led by JAXA (Japan Aerospace Exploration Agency) and NASA (National Aeronautics and Space Administration) professionals ventured to Ganymede Hub II, an international research habitat complete with long-term lodging and a state-of-the-art laboratory. Ganymede’s lunar makeup comprises mostly of scrubland, with some streams, two rivers, and a single ocean approximately the size of the Mediterranean Sea. The Violaceous Sea is similar to our own, however further study is required to determine the sea’s scale and biodiversity. For this project, an abundant figure of the Violaceous Sea was studied. Ganymede parvipinnis or the Ganymede small-fin shark is the most well documented aquatic specimen of Ganymede.
By M. J. Luke3 years ago in Fiction
Not Quite Time, Not Quite Space
Auden Tholos, the son of Audra Tholos, stared up from the floor of Rosette Gok’s kitchen. Auden’s eyes, bloodshot with tears, were initially wide with intrigue, but quickly scorched over into a churning mix of anger and something else equally passionate. Green droplets clung to the ringlets on his head and the outer layer of clothing proving to Emma Mota where he was before arriving here. Auden Tholos was not one for greetings and guess work. With accuracy he deduced the reason for his sudden appearance before an unknown woman and her. Auden shaped his gaze with that of Emma Mota. Pain, the same kind striding with Auden, existed in Emma and together their pain greeted as quiet signs, flushed cheeks, and a lowered guard soon to be hoisted higher than it ever was before.
By M. J. Luke3 years ago in Fiction
The Queen of Purple
A suburban office park at two in the morning offered little to lore or the beginnings of an honest struggle. Although, those who frequented the parking lot during the day would consider themselves to be at the forefront of a very specific struggle; the fight for business. In truth, there was only one office listed on the marquee sign that would have anything to do with a fight. Five or ten businesses made up the white glowing sign at the entrance of the parking lot, but it was the one at the bottom with part of a light shifting between dim and illuminated that quietly beckoned for adventure. Avian Technologies, AT for short, in bold, red letters was often confused with the aviation school down the street and at times AT would receive anything from mail addressed to the school to actual aviation students showing up at the front door ready to attend class. This was something that annoyed Megan Mora, who often picked up the nightshift at AT to work on her doctoral research in both the late and very early hours.
By M. J. Luke3 years ago in Fiction
The Sweet-Simple
It was an unnecessary idea to consider desserts outlawed, but the feeling one got while enjoying a thrice dipped strawberry opera cake was enough for cake engineers, pastry wizards, cookie peddlers, flan experts, cupcake speakers, and other pedigrees of bakers to establish a sweet-simple in the heart of Outerbanks, Georgia. The relatively small town existed on a line bordering Atlanta where one might see the great city’s coruscating skyline and hear the rail bustling by every so often. More of a town than a destination, Outerbanks did not set itself as a major draw for out-of-towners as its downtown included a mere fifteen storefronts offering everything from locally grown fruits and vegetables to affordable tailoring options for the entire family, including the dog. The streets were always clean because the residents were always cheerful and the thought of reaching down to pick up a fly away receipt or cigarette butt was of no great setback.
By M. J. Luke3 years ago in Fiction